


The Seduction of Two Idiots

by sadieb798



Series: The Start of Something [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Drabble, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Relationship, Threesome - F/M/M, allusion to sex, but not, hand pornish, relationships, slow-going seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though the plan started off simply enough, it was taking a frustratingly longer amount of time than Mary had originally anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seduction of Two Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> Well so many of you wanted more, so I give you more! I'm leaving these separate-ish, so whoever wants to can just pick one up and add something or other to it if they'd like.  
> Many thanks to 666Neme666 who was good enough to provide some suggestions :)

 Mary began, simply enough, by planting an idea into John’s head. 

“So what’s Sherlock like? When he’s not coming back from the dead or on a case, I mean,” she asked as they folded laundry.

“Well you’ve seen him,” John said, shrugging in response.

“Yeah, but that’s not the same as knowing him, is it?” She asked.

He was silent and she let him mull it over.

The next day John came up with the lovely idea of having Sherlock over for tea once a week at their flat, that way she and Sherlock could get to know each other better before the wedding. Mary smiled delightedly, while inside she rubbed her hands together and said “Eggsellent” evilly.

That was how Mary spent her Tuesday afternoons, sitting across from Sherlock and John in their sitting room, talking about everything over jammy dodgers and tea. Though Teatime-Tuesday was all well and good, Mary had important work to do. She needed to know the precise amount of what her boys were comfortable with, touch-wise. She also needed to know if either of them could be turned on by the same or the opposite sex. But she didn’t want to go so far with something as to cause discomfort or all her lovely planning would be for naught, and all her hard work would be flushed down the drain, hence she had to experiment.

So she started with Sherlock.

It began slowly at first. When Sherlock first came to tea, she smiled at him. Around the fourth time she began to wrap her hands on his forearms and give him gentle squeezes of both welcome and goodbye. After that, whenever he was at the door, she’d first kiss John on the lips in greeting, and then rise on her toes and kiss Sherlock quickly and feather-light on the cheek. Then when it was time to leave, she’d fetch his scarf from the rack, wrap it round his neck and smile at him. Over time, it escalated to her adding a peck on the cheek to her goodbyes.

She also made sure that while having tea, when she’d hand Sherlock his tea or the plate of jammy dodgers, that their fingers would brush.

She had to be careful though; she knew if she divulged in too much attention to Sherlock, John would get jealous and suspicious, but of Sherlock, not her. So she made sure that during tea she would pay a great deal of attention to John. Sometimes she’d put her hand on his knee as he spoke or rub his lower back absently. Once or twice she would hold his hand.

Whenever she touched John, she noted with amusement that Sherlock watched her hand with what appeared to be envy. She smiled knowingly to herself and continued. She wondered, not for the first time, how Sherlock felt about women, and how he would fare with a woman in a sexual relationship. She soon got her answer. Once while spreading strawberry jam on a piece of toast, she accidentally got the red stuff on her thumb. When she brought the digit up to her lips to lick off, she noticed that not just John was watching her: Sherlock was as well, with his pupils blown wide with what could only be arousal.

It took all her self-control not to squeal with excitement at the new development right then and there. So! It seemed the detective could be turned on by women! Now the question is, was it just her or could it be other women? That would have to be a test for another day; right now her primary focus was on John and Sherlock realizing their feelings for each other.

She arranged these occurrences easily enough. She would sporadically place the tea things as well as the tea itself on the high shelves that she knew neither she nor John could reach without the step-stool whenever John wasn’t home. Then when Sherlock came over, she would ask Sherlock to fetch the items down for her. He of course would stretch up and get the things easily. This was lovely to watch as he did so, and she was continually amazed at just how tight the man’s clothes were; it was a wonder his buttons didn’t pop from the strain. Just before he would get the things down, Mary would arrange it so that John would be in the vicinity of Sherlock’s space and so could be able to watch the man’s shirt stretch apart, easily making out the taut muscles underneath the expensive material. She worried that one day Sherlock’s buttons would pop, bounce off of John’s face, and his shirt would split open, revealing his hardened chest. They never did, of course--much to her great disappointment. She did, however, love to stand in the doorway of their kitchen and watch John as he watched Sherlock. John’s cheeks would flush, his eyes tracking Sherlock’s every movement, while his breathing would hitch just slightly and his face filled with such _want_ that it was truly delicious to behold _._ It was probably one of Mary's favorite hobbies to engage in.

It was in those successful times that Mary would glow and pat herself on the back, figuratively, of course.

And so it continued. Every week over jammy dodgers and tea, the three of them would gather in the sitting room, talking about everything under the sun, and Mary would be drawn to Sherlock’s hands. He had such beautiful hands, with long, dexterous fingers, slender wrists, and short blunt nails stained with chemicals. He handled the tea things with such care and with an elegant grace that it was quite easy for her to stare at them longer than was deemed polite. While staring she might have even--once or twice--fantasized circumstances where it would be necessary to have those hands placed on certain parts of her body or even on parts of her fiancé’s.

And while she smiled politely at whatever John and Sherlock were saying, inside her head they were engaging in scandalous and depraved sexual acts over the couch cushions, knocking over the tea tray in the process. 

But she was careful not to divulge too long in the fantasies--after all, she _was_ in the presence of the world’s only consulting detective who could read her thoughts just from her breathing pattern--making it a point to bring herself back to earth, though she filed away each and every fantasy for future use and to be explored further when she was alone.

Even when Sherlock gesticulated wildly it was easy to get swept up in the fantasies, that was when she had to be the most careful not to get side-tracked. His gesturing would get worse whenever he and John talked about past cases that never made it to John’s blog. Sherlock would gesture wildly while explaining a deduction he’d made about a client or a suspect or a murderer, and John would usually chime in with digs at Sherlock about a certain aspect of the case, or a reminder that knowing that their client wore a thong under his business suit regularly from the dirt under his fingernails was _not_ something that was worth announcing at a crime scene.

Then they’d go off onto a tangent about how knowing their client had a penchant for wearing thongs had led to the solution of the case so maybe it _was_ a bit important and in no time at all they’d have Mary in stitches.

But between John’s warm smiles at his friend, and the way Sherlock would _stare_ with so much love in his eyes at John when he wasn’t looking, probably cataloguing how John’s eye colour changed in the light, Mary wondered _how_ they couldn’t have been aware of their feelings before. Were they both so incredibly thick and each wrapped up so tightly in their denial that they didn’t see the obvious signs?  

* * *

It turned out that yes, yes they were.

Though the plan started off simply enough, it was taking a frustratingly longer amount of time than Mary had originally anticipated for it to get off the ground. It wasn’t as though she expected a light-switch to magically flip on inside their heads, where they’d suddenly lock eyes on each other, releasing a breathless _“Oh”_ and then get at it like rabbits in a hutch, and she could sit back and bask in the musk of sex--despite however much she _wanted_ that to be the case. She knew and understood that it took time and patience to reach the right conclusion, but it was months till the wedding and dammit it was fast approaching and neither of her boys were ready _or_ cooperating.

There was hope though.

She regularly arranged it so that other things would go wrong throughout the flat that would throw her boys together. 

And it was on this one memorable occasion where Mary had pinned all her hopes on since it had happened.

She’d “accidentally” broken the facet handle to the kitchen sink and it was up to handy-man John to try and shut off the reservoir of water that had shot forth. As it happened, it was Teatime-Tuesday and Sherlock entered just as John was taking off his soaked-through shirt. Well needless to say all the days and weeks and hours of Mary’s planning had finally paid off when Sherlock’s eyes dilated as they swept over John’s drenched form, his sharp cheeks flushed, and his mouth forming a perfect _o_ in what could only be sudden realization. John acknowledged Sherlock’s presence and quickly excused himself to put on a new shirt.

All Sherlock was capable of doing, it seemed, was to sit down, hard, into a chair in his shock; stunned into silence.

Mary could have cheered! At last! One idiot realized his feelings! She smiled to herself and left him to his deductions. But when she returned, it seemed as though Sherlock hadn’t changed in the slightest as they sat down to their Tuesday ritual. She was so angry she could have thrown her tea out the window, if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was the last pot of water she’d made before she broke the sink. So she only sat back and sipped her tea irritably. 

* * *

 

She knew, of course, that just weekly tea and the odd case every now and again wouldn’t be enough to help her cause to get her idiots together, and so deemed it the appropriate time to move things forward.

Without her knowing, John made Sherlock his best man.

Mary was delighted when John told her the news. Yes this was perfect! Sherlock would help out with wedding arrangements! That meant the boring bits like who sat where, or what cake to serve and with what meal, but most importantly that meant tux shopping with John.

Unfortunately that also meant she couldn’t tag along with them to see how it all turned out. All day long she fussed, cleaning things twice, fidgeting where she sat just thinking about what she could be missing out on. When John finally came home, Mary tried to appear curious as to how it went as she fired off carefully worded questions. To her further frustration John was tight-lipped about the whole thing, but had a smile on his lips the entire time she interrogated him. Trying to be cute then, eh? It was time to pull out the big guns.

That night, knowing John had work the next day and she had the day off, Mary called Sherlock and invited him to go out with her to shop for her wedding dress.

“Why?” he asked, she could hear the frown in his voice.

“Well I don’t have many girlfriends,” Mary said, leaning against the fixed kitchen sink. “At least none that know John and his tastes and are honest enough to tell me which dress makes me look fat.”

Sherlock hummed in agreement while Mary waited.

“You’d be doing me a real favour,” Mary admitted. “I just want to look good for John.” _And for you_ , but she didn’t say that last part aloud.

Sherlock sighed, “Fine.” She smiled widely. “I’ll meet you there, what’s the address?”


End file.
